Showing posts with label essays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label essays. Show all posts

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Consumption Junction - Argument

To be perfectly honest, I'm not as much an activist as I like to pretend I am. I'll latch onto an opinion and occasionally make an attempt to defend it, but generally I avoid argument as much as possible in my daily life.

Capitalism is kind of a touchy subject. Here's my last-minute attempt to discredit it:

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Consumption Junction

A Discourse on Market Capitalism

More than sixty years have passed since the start of the Cold War, and western civilization now stands -- more than ever before -- as a monolithic symbol for capitalism. This particular type of economy has, in modern times, become pervasive throughout the first world. Even many rising nations that had been formerly opposed to a free market (such as China and India) have warmed to the promise of staggering economic growth. In spite of this widespread acceptance, market capitalism is inherently -- and incorrigibly -- unscrupulous, destructive, and unsustainable.

"But what," you might ask, "about all of the clearly-overwhelming benefits that capitalism has to offer over the alternatives? Competition," you would add, "is a good thing, isn't it?" Students of economics profess that greed is good, extolling the virtues of competition as a tool for stimulating cash flow and innovation in the marketplace. In these aspects, they're right; the beauty of a free market lies in the propensity of a profit motive to manifest the will of a population. In other words, the promise of financial gain means innovative ideas and higher quality products and services at competitive prices. A constant stream of new and often-novel products and services leads to more active consumers and, in turn, to healthier economies. Considering these benefits from the standpoint of a consumer, capitalism is an easy sale, but it doesn't go so far as to reveal the actual price we're paying.

Outside of the context of competition, "profit motive" is a dirty term. It provides incentive for profiteers to commit to otherwise-unsavory tactics, taking advantage of human vulnerabilities and insecurities for the sake of the bottom line. The socioeconomic impacts of this, especially with the refinement of pervasive marketing campaigns, have been widespread. Remembering that America was -- for most of its early history -- an agrarian society, we've seen many significant changes with the rise of consumer culture, ranging from the death of our economic independence as individuals become increasingly specialized to sweeping changes in our eating habits.

What's more, while many proponents of market capitalism argue that it rewards hard work and promotes fair competition, the system works very differently in practice. Though countless entrepreneurs might undertake the same venture, the majority of the business (and the profit) will ultimately go to the select few firms who come out on top. This is fine in concept, but the reality is that the element of chance is often a major factor in determining who is successful. Capitalism is a "winner take all" system, where a percentage of all of the work that goes into a venture goes to the victors while the remaining participants are left to fail. On the same token, participants who are aware of this will often not hesitate to undercut their competition. The potential rewards of doing business in this way encourage participation, and likewise have fostered a culture of ruthlessness among corporations. This system of imbalance only serves to amplify the wealth disparity, as the wealthy gain more wealth at the expense of weaker competitors.

This is all, as many will point out, simply the cost of doing business. Indeed, many people embrace these flaws, as certainly market capitalism's potential to gain outstrips any other market with a lower ceiling. Worse than these flaws, though, is the relentless, systematic destruction and consumption of the world's resources. Merriam-Webster's dictionary defines the word "consume" as "to destroy or expend by use; use up." More than any other market, capitalism and consumerism are inextricably tied, and it's easy to see why. A brief look at the typical supply chain as taught to business students around the globe shows something alarming: from harvesting to refinement to manufacturing to distribution and beyond, the flow of products moves in only one direction. The overarching business philosophy is a one-way track, focusing on the logistics of generating profit by enabling the consumption of resources. There's no cycle to the pattern of consumption; rather, the environment is treated strictly as a resource to be managed and converted to products. While companies have begun to "greenwash" their products to appeal to the environmentalist movement (who actually believes the concept of "clean coal?"), no amount of marketing or technology can change the fact that our pattern of consumption is irreconcilably finite.

It's easy to point to the numerous flaws of capitalism and insist that they can be overcome by simple regulations, that there are no better alternatives than the path we've chosen. Making any kind of meaningful change would require a collective effort that hasn't been seen since the second World War, but we cannot simply accept that we're doing the right thing when everything from the goods we buy to the food we eat are products of a broken system. It may be true that this is all just the cost of doing business, but is it a price that we can afford? Capitalism is destructive and unsustainable, and anything less than a massive change is, quite simply, decadent.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Roommates - Process Analysis

Saying that I HATE process analysis might be a little unfair. I definitely don't love it, though.

My professor is decidedly against using research in our papers (as he doesn't want to grade MLA citations until he has to, as far as I can tell), so picking a topic meant that I needed to stay in the realm of the day-to-day. Bad roommates are, I think, a universal constant, but I decided that my experiences were only the tip of the iceberg. I turned to reddit for additional insight, and got some really interesting stories, though ultimately I decided to keep it mellow.

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Roommates


Reaching adulthood and striking out on your own can be at once intimidating and exhilarating. Leaving the nest -- so to speak -- is an important coming-of-age ritual and a vital part of the development process; this is especially true in a society, such as ours, that so highly values individual capability and independence. Making your own way in the world at such a young age can be difficult, though, and it can be hard to gain any footing on your own. It is precisely this reason that many -- indeed, most -- of us seek a companion to help us as we take our first steps away from home. Be it a friend, a lover, or a total stranger, we seek a roommate for the stability we need to succeed on our own. A roommate can, however, be as much a curse as a blessing; a good roommate will ease your financial burdens and provide quality company and support, while a bad roommate is fully capable of the opposite: destroying you financially, eroding your confidence in humanity, and causing immeasurable grief and anxiety. With so much at stake, it is imperative to know how to successfully detect a troublesome roommate before the situation escalates beyond control.

While you should never judge a book by its cover, first impressions are crucial to filtering out the good from the bad. Every single day we rely on our first impressions to help us make critical decisions about many aspects of life. Our subconscious is adept at recognizing a huge number of factors that help us form a preliminary judgment which, while sometimes inaccurate and rarely complete, should not be ignored. When meeting a potential roommate for the first time, it is important to be aware of our first impressions and to take them into account when evaluating whether the person will be a good fit. Both parties should treat the meeting as a job interview: pay close attention to the entire presentation, taking stock of his or her attire, manner of speech, and any issues that the person presents as a priority. Beware of anything about your prospective roommates that could pose a potential problem, such as their reasons for looking for new lodging, their attitudes towards partying, their employment status, and even the specific jobs they work. It may seem cruel to simply follow our instinct in passing judgment -- and it can be difficult to say no to someone in need who is in a similar situation -- but being aware of these initial red flags can allow you to prevent a bad situation from ever occurring.

Unfortunately, much of the time we do not have the luxury of knowing a bad roommate before we are in a living situation with them. For this reason, we must know how to recognize a problem as it manifests, before it gets out of hand. Cleanliness, for example, is an important factor. An unclean living space can play host to an entirely new set of problems, from negative social implications to potential health and safety hazards to pest control problems and even, in extreme cases, structural damage and degradation. Mountains of dirty dishes, scattered collections of long-forgotten food, significant clutter in common areas, trash buildup, and mold buildup are all signs of a bad roommate. While any one or two of these problems can, with some patience, be worked through, combinations of these symptoms will often mean that a roommate is incorrigible. The insidious buildup of filth can be easy to miss until it's too late, so on this more than anything we must remain vigilant.

Pets, too, can be cause for concern, and require a certain amount of attention. Many animals can be just as troublesome as a bad roommate, or worse, as they cannot be held responsible or be reasoned with for their actions. Recognizing a problem animal before it becomes a problem can be difficult, however, and in many cases the safest course of action is to avoid roommates with pets or, at the very least, to filter the kind of pet that you will allow. Smaller animals, for instance, are easier to maintain control of and clean up after. Some animals will help you determine the quality of a potential roommate's character: any well-trained animal, such as an obedient dog, will generally indicate that the owner is a capable one; other animals, like fish, require a fair amount of responsibility to maintain, and are likely to belong to a relatively low risk roommate (do not hesitate to ask, however, how long the fish have been alive in the owner's care, as they are not difficult to replace). Other animals can be a liability and should be avoided at all costs, regardless of the apparent capability of the owner. The great poet Lord Byron kept a tame bear in his dorms at Cambridge, though one would likely be wary of actually living alongside someone so "mad, bad, and dangerous to know."

It is said that you will never truly know a person until you have lived with them. And while we are more likely to overlook the transgressions of our friends or loved ones, the desire to preserve our relationships means that it is all the more important that these people are not exempt from scrutiny. Everybody has a number of annoying little habits that can, with some patience, be overlooked or worked through, but even some of the most assertive people can allow their tolerance to get the best of them. Early detection is key, as what may begin as a bit of unnecessary clutter, left unchecked, can progress to a nightmarish collection of filth. Knowing how to recognize the difference between an annoyance and a truly bad roommate is the key to taking control of a situation or, when possible, avoiding a problem altogether.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

You Get What You Need - Narrative

Summer term might have been a mistake. I wasn't thinking clearly when I signed myself up for four classes (out of pocket, I might add) in addition to a full time work schedule. Not all is doom and gloom, though; I've finally stretched my literary muscles for the first time in ages and have been given the opportunity (read: forced) to do some academic writing again.

Fodder for the blog.

This week's assignment was to write a narrative, 700-1000 words, detailing a true story with a lesson or moral. I've always preached that morality is inherently relative, but we've all learned a thing or two from time to time. I decided that in this case I would write a meta-essay, detailing the difficult process of selecting an essay topic.

To be fair, I spent much less time coming up with the topic than I did deciding whether I'd be blacklisted for it.

Enjoy.

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"You Get What You Need"

"It doesn't have to focus on some life-changing epiphany, just any time where you learned something. I think everyone can think of at least one time where you learned something." For the second time in as many years I found myself seated in an English Composition class. My credit didn't transfer but I couldn't wait any longer to find out why; I had made a plan to graduate and I wasn't about to put that off over some low-level English class. Besides, I'd earned this credit once before, how hard could it be? So there I sat, two weeks into the course, taking down the first writing assignment.

It wasn't a particularly difficult assignment. In fact, it should have been easy. A few hundred words telling a story with a lesson and I could call it a week, it would be smooth sailing. He was right -- the professor -- to suggest it would be a simple matter; after all, I had my share of stories and it was only a matter of choosing.

At the end of class I waited for most of the other students to leave before packing up my things. I made my way down the hallway, empty and bleak in only the way that fluorescent lighting can achieve, and pushed my way out of the of the glass doors into the the night. Fresh air met my nostrils and twirled playfully across my face and I slowed my walk, gazing at the stars as I ambled across the parking lot. A steady stream of light appeared nearby and moved slowly and deliberately out of sight, the red and gold orbs of endlessly advancing cars. I reached my van and fumbled with my keys before climbing up to my perch and lighting the headlights. A quick turn of the wrist and the engine roared to life. "A few hundred words," I thought; "This will be easy. I'll start it tomorrow." The vehicle lurched forward, and I was swept off with the river of light.

Three days passed -- long, tiresome, unproductive days -- before I turned my attention back to the assignment. It was late on a Friday night and I was staring at my computer monitor. The word processor filled the screen and the harsh white glare lashed out at my eyes. The cursor stood at the head of the page, blinking, austere and immovable. The page was empty. One letter at a time, I typed my name. The cursor followed suit, moving reluctantly with each additional character. I sighed and leaned back in my creaky office chair, swiveling to and fro. The low hum of my apartment's air conditioner filled the room as I wracked my brain for something, anything, to write about. Outside, the rumble of thunder orchestrated a symphony of car alarms in the apartment complex. I groaned and sprang to my feet, stepping onto the porch in time to watch the first droplets of rain.

Sunday morning, she sat across from me on the couch. "So you just have to come up with a story with a moral? And you can't think of ANYTHING?" Tendrils of steam reached up from a mug of coffee and mingled with loose strands of hair. My roommate.
"It's not that I can't think of anything at all; I've got plenty of stories, I just can't think of anything that I really WANT to write about."
"If it's taken you all week, why can't you just pick something and get it out of the way?"
It had been five days and I still hadn't even decided on a topic. She was right, but I just wasn't satisfied with my options. My chair creaked as I leaned back. "It's just..." I bit down on the pen cap that I had been playing with and leaned forward, creaking again as my elbows came to rest against my knees. "I mean, I don't want to write anything too cheesy, but how many stories can I just tack an obvious moral to? I can't think of any stories that wouldn't feel forced. Or at least appropriate for school."
Elaine stood to leave, but paused before turning away. "It's just an essay. Stop trying so hard and just write it."

Later that afternoon I left for work and pushed the assignment from my mind. I still had a little over a day to decide on a topic; the words, I thought, would follow close behind. In the evening I stepped outside for a break, some fresh air to clear my head. The sky was beginning to darken and the clouds were changing hue, and my mind scrambled to find something to write about as I took a seat on a bench along the sidewalk. For all of the stories I thought I had, I could conjure nothing. Surely I've had plenty of lessons, but aside from cheap anecdotes and forced metaphor, what could I really write about? I could never turn in a story of some sordid romance, or a tale of unrequited love, and be taken seriously; could I? I stared up at the sun as it dipped low in the sky and as, one by one, red fluorescent retail signs were illuminated. Slowly, the shadows of distant buildings crept closer across the massive parking lot, and the clouds above changed from gold to deep, soulful shades of orange and red, and I was reminded of my conversation with Elaine. I chuckled to myself and watched as the last slivers of the sun slipped below the skyline. It really did seem obvious.

"Stop trying so hard, huh?"
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Revival

I've been trying to re-evaluate the usefulness of this blog. Originally, I started it as a sort of bulletin board of English assignments, but when that dried up it turned into more of a scarcely-updated political/zombie blog (not to be confused with political zombies).

I decided that I would abandon this project until I got some materials together to start an entirely new blog. Then I started another English class.

First essay post is tomorrow.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Obama: The End of a Headache

Tuesday night marked the end of my English course. Sure, I'll still be attending for several weeks, but I turned in my final paper for review, and the only reason to attend class at this point is the several remaining grammar tests.

This is good news, because now, hopefully, I will be able to devote more time to my own projects. In the meantime, check out my fairly biased dissertation on Barack Obama.







It was only two centuries ago that a band of colonies declared its sovereignty from Great Britain. This, the formation of the United States of America, would be a catalyst for change throughout much of Western society. In an era dominated primarily by monarchial societies, the emergence of democracy in the New World gradually became a beacon for the downtrodden. For the first time in centuries, people had a voice, if only a small one; and immigrants eventually came to the United States in droves, in search of better lives. It was the inherent liberalism in this form of government that paved the way for the freedoms we now know, and which provided the groundwork for the global powerhouse that we are today. Given the right leadership, democracy allowed the country to flourish, but in the past eight years, the United States has witnessed a decline in economics, civil liberties, and foreign relations. Since the beginning of 2001, the Bush Administration has overseen all of these changes and has been instrumental in obstructing the nation’s progress as a whole. Now, as 2007 draws to a close, it is evident that the coming elections are to be among the most momentous in recent memory, with consequences inherent not for just the United States, but for the entire world. With the primary elections drawing near, one thing is clear. America needs a leader who can unite the people, who can remain true to his ideals in the face of adversity, who has continually displayed perseverance and success in the face of great obstacles, and who can be the voice of change for the American people; Barack Obama is that leader.

Born in Honolulu, Hawaii in 1961, Barack Obama was a child of diverse parentage. His father, a foreign student from Kenya, separated from his mother, a middle class Kansan woman, when he was only two. His mother later married Lolo Soetoro, with whom she moved to Jakarta, Indonesia, where Obama attended school from the ages of six to ten before returning to Hawaii to live with his maternal grandparents. Because of the difficulties of his childhood and the hardships he faced in his early life, Obama has developed a set of beliefs and ideals that revolves around a strong sense of right and wrong on a global scale. This attitude has allowed him to succeed, first as a member of the community, and now as the incumbent senator of the state of Illinois.



It is this same attitude, this sense of justice, which accounts for what is perhaps Obama’s strongest suit. After two terms of controversy and fear driven policy, what the United States needs now more than ever is a leader who can unite the populace. Never in recent years has a presidential candidate so successfully rallied people behind him. He garners this support through fairness and reason, making certain to view issues from every possible perspective before passing judgement, and taking the well being of his fellow citizens into consideration before every momentous decision. In interviews, Obama is an everyman, speaking at ease and making connections through words and observations with everyone whom he comes in contact with. Through his actions and his beliefs, Barack Obama has single-handedly unified thousands of Americans of every race and creed. No other candidate has shown great enough success to rival the rapidly growing grassroots movement which has inspired Americans from every demographic to band together in support of one common cause.



As an individual, Barack Obama has proven himself to be absolutely resolute in his principles. As the first candidate in memory to reject the promise of campaign contributions from lobbyists and special interest groups, Obama has relied on the grassroots movement to be the core of his campaign. Within the first nine months, Obama raised over 58 million dollars – more than any other presidential candidate in history – from 365,000 individual contributors, none of which came from Washington lobbies.

While he is by no means the first candidate with religious ties, Obama is unique in that he speaks openly on faith and the importance of diversity in beliefs. In a realm where religion is often controversial, Obama draws from his faith to support his cause. He stands by his belief, but admits the doubts and uncertainties of religion. He draws strength and balance from faith and speaks with a fervor almost reminiscent of Martin Luther King, but allows only reason to be his sovereign.

Also indicative of Obama’s resolve is his voting record. While many candidates have voted dubiously on issues in reaction to pressure or popularity, Obama has remained true to his own beliefs on the ballot. In his time as a senator, he has established a steadfast voting record to support his views despite outside pressure. From the beginning, Obama has opposed the war in Iraq, and his voting record has firmly reflected this view. From the initial decision to go to war to a more recent bill which would have called for an increase in funding for the Department of Defense, he has voted decisively to prevent and reduce military deployment. Conversely, his support for more humanitarian efforts has shown in the endorsement of improvements to the Children’s Health Insurance Program and the restoration of habeas corpus for detainees of the United States. Barack Obama is a man of principle who acts upon his ideals, but is not ruled by them; he values honesty, both to himself and to others; and he stands as a pillar for the American people.



With his remarkable moral fortitude and his conscientious approach to issues, it’s not surprising that Obama is well suited as a legislator. Having been instilled by his mother with what can only be described as hard-working Midwestern values, Obama gained much of his initial experience in politics in the mid 1980's, when he became a community organizer for a church-based group in Chicago. It was here that he realized that in order to make true changes in the lives of people in communities all over the nation, he would need to make changes in the lawmaking and political process.

After he earned his degree from Harvard University in 1991, where he became the first African-American president of the Harvard Law Review, Obama returned to Chicago, where his advocacy work led to his eventual election to the Illinois State Senate. In 2004, after eight years as Senator of Illinois, Barack Obama became the third African American to be elected to the U.S. Senate. His time prior to his entry into politics as a civil rights lawyer and an instructor in constitutional law has left Obama well equipped to make progressive changes, and eleven years in politics has served as preparation to take the stand as the leader of the United States of America.



Obama’s entire campaign is representative of a change in the way America governs. By far one of the most ambitious and progressive candidates in years, Obama aims to improve the broken health care system, providing universal health care to all Americans; he understands the importance of protecting the Earth's climate, and is an advocate of alternative energy; he has plans for educational reform, with plans to raise the salaries of teachers and close the learning gap; he aims to restore and protect the American right to vote, making significant election reforms to prevent abuse; and he will continue to strive towards the reconciliation of faith and politics, with the intent of reducing hostilities between those of different faiths. He will be a pioneer for a new kind of Presidency.

At the age of 46, Obama will be among the youngest of American presidents, bringing a much-needed youthfulness to office. Also, even before the primary elections, an African-American campaigning for President of the United States has caused a stir around the world. Were Obama to be elected, it would represent the great leaps and strides that we have made as a nation towards equality, and – more importantly – his success would open the doors for future diversity in office. Obama’s unique standing as a candidate and his honest, progressive goals have captured the hearts of hundreds of thousands of Americans; and for the first time in decades, the youth of America have found inspiration to participate in politics.



The United States of America is a nation founded on freedom, equality, and choice. Over the past two hundred years, these foundations have been built upon and reinforced, but the Bush Administration has dealt a serious blow to that progress. Over the past seven years America has seen its economy plummet, its diplomacy fail, and its freedom maimed; it has seen war and, worse yet, its people have been divided. It is a critical moment in the history of America and the world, and ours is a country in desperate need of change. As a nominee, Barack Obama has the potential to be that change. He is a symbol of progress, a catalyst for change. In a time of division in a land of unity, Obama is a leader who can unite the nation. Never before has our fate been so clear: America needs a leader who can reunite the divided people, a leader who will remain moral and just in the face of immense adversity and who will persevere and thrive in the face of great obstacles. America needs a leader who will be the voice of change for Americans everywhere. Barack Obama is that leader.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Summary - We're Poor

In a feeble attempt to fill the fairly conspicuous gap in posts from the past few weeks, I present a summary of Floyd Dell's short story, "We're Poor." The essay itself was written as a companion to my previous essay, entitled "The Civilization," for the Example essay. "We're Poor" describes the series of events that leads to a child's realization that his family is poor.

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The example essay generally aims to prove a point or demonstrate a theme that acts essentially as a thesis. This is often achieved through the medium of a narrative and is commonly utilized in folk tales and fables to illustrate, through the events of a story, the value of a particular moral. Such stories are often organized in a cookie cutter fashion, opening with a point being stated and then supported by the follies of a main character. In the story, "We're Poor," author Floyd Dell refuses to subscribe to this template and instead attempts to recount - in startlingly vivid terms - the series of events that led to a child coming to the realization that his family is poor.

As is typical of any child of a young age, the narrator lives oblivious to the circumstances that set him apart in society. He accepts the conditions in which he lives to be normal and finds no need to further question his situation. Floyd Dell skillfully illustrates the various aspects of the child's life, incrementally revealing to the reader the extent of the poverty in which the narrator lives. The narrator examines these discrepancies individually, allowing the reader to connect with the character from the time the soles of his shoes are replaced with cardboard, to his embarrassment at having only pennies to donate to the poor, and finally - as all of the pieces drop into place - to the agonizing realization of why his family couldn't celebrate Christmas.

Innumerable contemporary texts have been written on the subject of the lower class and unemployment. While Floyd Dell could have easily written a dissertation on the hardships of poverty, he opted instead to show the reader a life of poverty in the most profound way that he could: from the eyes of a child. "We're Poor" takes the reader from a plodding, uncertain beginning through increasingly poignant imagery, only to climax in a wave of numbness.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Civilization - Example

I was at a loss last weekend when I realized I needed to come up with a topic for Tuesday's essay, so I considered myself lucky when a friend of mine began telling me about his own writing assignment on human civilization. I decided that I was out of ideas, and I took civilization and ran with it. It might be worth noting now that I use "Civilization" intentionally as a physical object, and so as a proper noun.

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Since humanity first climbed from the clutches of its primordial hovel, it has sown the seeds of creation. It has striven to master its own world, to triumph over itself, and to rise to yet greater ingenuity. Mankind's greatest achievement is the Civilization, a complex system of agriculture and labour divisions contained within an intricate evolution of mankind's total social heredity. Yet, mankind's greatest talent is not creation, but destruction. It is fitting, then, that the nature of the Civilization is that of the phoenix, and that from smoldering ash arises a new era for mankind to bask in his own glory; for the Civilization is not merely a collection of farms and social ranks, it is a cage in which lies the brutal savagery inherent in the race of man.

Even in Sumer, the cradle of civilization, is this aggression evident. The great cities that birthed writing, astronomy, arithmetic, legal systems, the calendar, and the wheel laid siege to themselves and fell to obscurity as they were annexed by another rising power. Two thousand years later along the banks of the river Tiber the great Roman Empire raised the Colosseum, a grandiose achievement in architecture and engineering devoted to the entertainment of man through spectacles of bloodshed and battle. A full millennium later on a continent halfway around the world the Aztecs erected the first Great Temple, a man-made mountain paying tribute to Tlaloc and Huitzilopochtli, the gods of rain and fire. For days on end, human sacrifices would be conducted atop the great pyramid, and the bodies would be cast down the steep sides to pile at the base of the sacred grounds. This civilization, like all others before it, eroded itself from within only to be devoured by another larger, more destructive culture.

Six thousand years have passed since humanity first ascended from its cradle, and little has emerged to keep its brutality in check. Even today, so-called "humanitarian" efforts against mankind's nature uniformly fail to prevent sectarian bloodshed across the globe. In more "refined" societies around the world, violence is siphoned away from its homeland through war, only to fuel more destruction. Often, even the prospects of war and administrative action fail to completely stifle a population's violent tendencies as crime runs rampant in urban areas. Not even the impending depletion of resources could manage to abate mankind's thirst for the blood of his own; rather, it has thrown him into a panic and further stimulated his aggression. Modern civilization has no Colosseums, no warlords, and no sacrificial temples; the hunger of the populace is stymied only by rigorous regimes of violent media. Humanity has found not a way to tame its brutality, but to divert it with technology, effectively moving the gladiator from the arena to the television screen.

From the construction of the first ziggurat to the launching of the first space shuttle, mankind has struggled to contain his aggression, to move forward unhindered by his savage tendencies. Instead, he has merely set it aside, channeling his talent through his rage in order to create. The fatal flaw in the Civilization lies here, in that humanity does not overcome its brutality insomuch as it harnesses it as impetus for growth, encouraging mankind's killer instinct to grow and elevating itself higher still to create, eventually, a destructive force well beyond imagination. It is the self-destructive aspect of the Civilization that is imperative to its remarkable ability to renew itself. Like the phoenix, the Civilization will crumble with age and fall to fire, only to emerge from the ashes anew and stronger than before. Even so, all things must come to an end, and the question must be asked: can the ultimate destruction of humanity's greatest invention be deterred; or will the Civilization at last collapse - as it has so many times before - once and for all?

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Friday, September 28, 2007

To Rule a Nation - Process

My most recent assignment was to write a Process essay: how to make a peanut butter sandwich, how to tie your shoes, what to do to get out of a speeding ticket - you know the stuff. I opted, as per the usual, for a more creative approach. I ask you, dear reader, to envision as you read an aging ex-vice president sitting fireside with you in a remote hovel in the mountains. Enjoy.

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The principles which Machiavelli had so explicitly unveiled are still relevant today. They are the sound foundation upon which I had once striven to erect my own empire, to become my own prince. For a time I had ruled the world; I know now how to accomplish the feat as clearly as I knew then. Hindsight, however, is 20/20, and I understand now the mistakes that led to how I exist today, aged and decrepit. It is a simple matter, to rule a nation, and easily attainable by one so ambitious and inventive as yourself.

One must first bide their time in preparation for the critical moment to act, you will know the time when it comes. The proper groundwork is tantamount to the success of your endeavors, and will make all of the difference in your bid for power. As with any worthwhile endeavor, resources are crucial, and the time spent in wait should be invested in accumulating funds. Oil companies are desirable in today's market, as they were in my own time.

The road to power should not be traveled alone, and your efforts should also be directed towards gathering the henchmen who would assist you on your eventual rise to power. Your leadership should include a representative of the minorities within your population. This will not likely convince any minority of your benevolence, but will help smooth the insecurities of a skeptic majority. You should also enlist the aid of a talented spinster to divert the prying eyes of the masses in times of need. Most importantly, you must find a figurehead. As tempting as it may seem to take credit for your scheming, you must not allow yourself to be held responsible for your actions. You must seek out a marionette, a veritable everyman capable of shedding blame as if it were water. He must not be intelligent, nor may he be ambitious. Be wary that he is not too small-minded, however, for it was a simpleton that was instrumental in my own demise.

In comparison with your efforts thus far, gaining a foothold of power will seem elementary. Your election, provided that you act in a free nation, should be won, not bought. Calling in favors, mudslinging, and tampering with voting machines are all fair game. Do not hesitate to alienate potential voters if it ensures your victory here, as you will not likely have need for them by the time the next election rolls around. Once you have established yourself in office, the real work of building your empire begins.

Your time in office is likely intended to be temporary, and you should treat it as such. You will need to rally the people behind you, enabling you to more quickly and efficiently further your own goals. This is easily accomplished by starting a war. Then, when media attention has ceased and support has dwindled, start another war. I was fortunate enough to have lived in a country that was hated by the rest of the world, but simple excuses may not be enough to sway the populace; you should not neglect the effectiveness of poor diplomacy. In the likely event that the people grow tired of war, you may temporarily stave off dissent by making a victory speech. Accompany this with some subtle adjustment to your war strategy, the most obvious being an ideological shift from an assault to an aggressive occupation to buy yourself the time to instate the appropriate legislation to ensure your whim remains de facto. Be lenient, however, and do not fear to withdraw from battle if pressure becomes too intense. Were I so wise in my own time, I'd not be where I am today.

The final ace up your sleeve is intimidation. People tend to be a sensitive lot, and will not respond for long to displays of brutality. A much more emphatic response may be elicited through muttered threats and indefinite certainties. Were you to accidentally shoot your friend in the face, the message would not be misconstrued.

The matter of ruling is never a simple one, however, and no amount of foresight can prepare one for every eventuality. Because of my own failure to act, my time has long since come and passed. There can be no second chances for those such as ourselves, only a swift and decisive victory or a terrible, crushing defeat. You must act in complete confidence, but never fail to check your decisions and adapt to your mistakes. Bullheadedness, ultimately, can rend a potential leader asunder. You, my protégé, must not allow yourself the same mistakes that I have made. With that, I leave you to begin your work.

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Sunday, September 23, 2007

An Inconvenient Narrative - Narrative

A week late, here's a short narrative that pays homage to Al Gore's good friend, the polar bear.

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It was mid-January, and a blistering New York sun beat down on the transparent shell of the New York Ministry of Culture. The Ministry of Culture, or NYMOC as it had been affectionately dubbed, was but one of innumerable Bio Dome Districts that had sprouted up across the globe after the dissolution of the United States government. Nobody had questioned the president's decision to relinquish their sovereignty to the UWA, and after losing half of the Eastern Seaboard, how could they? Ceding control to the United Western Alliance had been relatively painless; and after nearly a decade of pressure from the super-government, the people could finally breathe a collective sigh of relief. Now the United States, all of North America and Europe for that matter, was but a fading memory in an aging populace, and the BDDs were the ultimate answer to the challenges of a changing world.

The domes themselves were perhaps mankind's greatest engineering achievement. Constructed of massive glass panels supported by a web of alloy support beams, the domes often had a diameter of several miles across, and rose nearly a mile high at their centers. In addition to the vertical supports which gave shape to the domes there was a series of circumferential structures that ran parallel to the ground, and which housed the immense cooling systems required to keep the internal temperature at a crisp 73° Fahrenheit. Inside the NYMOC dome, an elderly man sat hunched alone on a bench in the crowded Pod station. The man stared lazily at the wavering sun through the torrents of water that continually cascaded down the outside of the dome, the waste product of the cooling systems above. The waste water, he knew, would enter a reservoir at the base of the dome, where it would be treated and redistributed where it was needed.

The sudden, harsh sound of a hydraulic pod door woke the man from his reverie, and he gathered himself, giving a careful tilt to his hat, before standing up. The child who exited the pod walked with the painstakingly sullen gait of every pubescent child since the dawn of time. Upon noticing the elderly man watching him, however, he smiled, and trotted over to his side. The man patted the child on the shoulder, and they walked for some time in silence. After awhile, the child lost interest in the bustle within the dome, and instead looked to the man. "I've never been to the Natural History Exhibit before."

The man nodded and gestured towards the intersection ahead of them. "Now you will," he said, and they turned the corner in silence. It was a nice day.

Around the corner was the Natural History Exhibit of the West Atlantic. The elaborate, imposing building stood imperiously above the rest of the district. The Exhibit was one of a series of similar museums that had been constructed in every major region of UWA territory, but this one was different. Inside the ornate facade was a complete record of the world as it had existed before the temperatures began to rise. The pair marveled at the impressive structure as they approached the massive gilded doors, and they entered.

For hours they wandered the halls of the museum, a life-sized narrative of their ailing world chronicling the delicate balance in which the planet had existed, and the disruption of that balance which had thrown the world into chaos. They progressed through room after room of displays recounting the melting of great fields of natural ice that had existed in the north, the opening of the fabled Northwest Passages, and the subsequent and dramatic rise in the oceans' water levels that had destroyed coastal regions worldwide. They experienced, as if through their own eyes, the mass extinction of species as the planet heated and began to wither, the widespread drought and famine, and the frenzied destruction across the globe as the newly-formed UWA struggled to gain control of the panic-stricken population. The old man gazed achingly at each exhibit, as if reliving a distant memory that had too soon passed him by. The child stared in open wonder at each of the detailed displays.

Eventually they came to an enormous spherical chamber, immaculately polished and filled with reproductions of the thousands of creatures that had been extinguished in the climate shift. Immediately in front of the pair atop a large pedestal loomed a bulky, menacing form, the first casualty of the planet's warming. The child stepped closer, frowning suspiciously.
"This is stupid, that can't be real."

The elderly man looked down at the child in startled confusion.

"Look at this!" He waved his arms. "Grandpa, who's ever heard of a white bear?"

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Monday, September 17, 2007

Summary - The Tell-Tale Heart

Less of a summary and more of a tragically underdeveloped treatise on the inherent power in the effective manipulation of rhetoric, this week I write about Edgar Allan Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart.

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The art of the narrative opens the door to limitless possibilities for style. The development of this style is absolutely imperative in creating the ideal environment in which the story will take place. Equally important, however, is perspective, for it is perspective that is responsible for the way in which the reader relates to the material. Horror writers in particular rely on the manipulation of perspective to evoke reader response. The tales of Edgar Allan Poe, the heralded master of macabre, are fine examples of the effectiveness of well-developed style and perspective, as the majority of his works place the reader inside the mind of the main character, or else as a sort of confidante. Poe's short story, The Tell-Tale Heart, is no exception to this rule.

The Tell-Tale Heart tells the story of a man's deadly obsession with a physical imperfection which drives him to murder. The tale is often told in short, exclamatory bursts, which become more frequent as the plot progresses. This fragmented style helps to give an already-bizarre story a surreal, disjointed edge. The story is presented from the first-person perspective of the culprit, who continually asserts his sanity to the reader. The narrator attempts to support his suspicious claims by recounting the increasingly bizarre measures that he took in the plotting and execution of the murder, his increasingly fervent and repetitious words confirming the extent of his madness as he finally cries out in an imagined agony a confession of guilt.

There is certainly more than rhetoric to be held accountable for the success of a tale, but it's important to note that the story would not have been as effective had it been written from a more detached point of view. Edgar Allan Poe weaves a careful tapestry of the bizarre and grotesque, mingled with the unsettling paranoia of a stark madman; these elements combine with frightening efficacy to make The Tell-Tale Heart a truly harrowing read.

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Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Summary - The Lament

Today I submit to you a paper summarizing a story by Anton Chekhov. The formula I used to write it is admittedly generic and a bit stuffy, but I feel that there is still some truth behind the words. Enjoy.

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It goes without saying that the human condition - this collective experience, if you will - has long been the subject of deliberation by poets and pundits alike. It is this universal theme which has unified the minds of innumerable artists in a common pursuit, only to spawn equally as many unique perspectives, each obscured in their own singularity; and it is this of which countless volumes have been recorded. It is not wholly remarkable, then, that Russian writer and physician Anton Chekhov's The Lament endeavors to relate to us exactly that. Rather, what is truly surprising is the extent to which Chekhov succeeds in his depiction.

The Lament tells the story of Iona Potapov, a poor Russian cabdriver who is inundated with grief at the loss of his only son. The archetypal Potapov appears as silent, pale, and still as the heavy snow that wraps itself around his hunched shoulders and back. Numb from his overwhelming sadness, Iona perches on his carriage in deep thought, doubled over himself and rigid, waiting for a fare to temporarily deliver him from the agony of his solitude. The prison of his own mind is unbearable for Iona, his thoughts tormenting him with every moment of silence, and he welcomes the transient company of his fares, hoping for a friendly soul with whom to share his immeasurable grief, to properly recount his, Iona Potapov's, tragic tale in its entirety. The company momentarily relieves his anguish, but as the night progresses and fares come and go, Iona realizes that there is no one willing to share his burden. Iona's desperation eventually becomes too much for him, and he turns to his faithful horse, to whom he can finally, properly recount the grotesque reality of an ailing old man outliving his young, healthy son.

Chekhov's character is at first glance a pitiful wretch, a shell of a man who has lost his touch with reality; yet the reader feels a sense of sorrow, of empathy for an aging man who, having lost his most beloved treasure, is wracked with grief as he struggles to reach out to his fellow man. It is this struggle that exemplifies the human condition. As Iona turns, so turns Humanity to seek solace in his fellow, to seek validation through shared sorrow, and to seek reprieve from his fear. Ultimately he must carry on, for grief, he will learn, can never be shared.

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Sunday, September 9, 2007

A Peach - Descriptive

Every Tuesday evening I attend an English Composition class at the local community college as a way of circumventing more conventional methods of... learning. Last Tuesday we were charged with the task of writing a one page description of a topic of our choice: I chose a peach. A peach, as we all know, is fairly unremarkable in itself. A mysterious, sensual encounter, on the other hand, tends to draw considerably more attention.

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Your skin is of velvet cloth, with a blanket of hairs like uncountable cilia: fine and soft and uniform. It is firm, but supple, and conforms to the touch as the finest feathered downs, packed tightly as they are, conform all the same. Your sweat beads on your taut skin, so easily bruised, and glistens in the faintest light as pearlescent droplets of clean, cool water slide easily across the warm tones of yellow and red that so sensuously mottle your tender skin before dipping down into full, round cleavage, further stimulating the hunger.

Beyond this fetching complexion of voluptuous curves and healthy red and yellow hues lies flesh full and deceptively sinewy beneath the smooth surface of such amorous skin. The taste of your flesh to my lips is exquisite - bitter and tantalizingly sweet - and my fancy implores me to indulge but I resist, instead savoring with relish the fleeting taste of your sweet, sticky nectar. That I will soon yearn for the flesh of another is of no consequence to you. Our time together is the only relevancy, and it is this sublime truth that spurs me further to press my teeth to your yielding skin, aching with the hunger as your sweet flesh is engulfed by a greedy maw desperate to sate the most base of needs. A groan escapes from my throat in primal joy as your juices mingle with saliva and linger on the cusp of a lip before streaming down my chin, my tongue twisting to lap up the sweet, sticky rivulets.

As my taste buds alight with the sweetness of your juices, so are my senses arrested by the irresistible aroma that wafts from your delicate flesh, and I am held helpless in ecstasy. Though your shape is flawless, I will soon long for another. For now, my desire is singular and unwavering, and this is perfection. Though the next may never hold the same enchantment, I am eternally held captive by that which is rapture: promiscuous, perfect, peach.

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About Me

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Nick Woll grew up in the Florida Keys, and is furthering himself in the fields of writing, software development, and web design. You can contact him at nwoll27 at gmail dot com.